


Sensual Magic

by melagan



Series: Sensual Magic [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-06-30
Updated: 2009-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John is a vampire and Rodney is not.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Sensual Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is a vampire and Rodney is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally done following the prompts for cliche_bingo.
> 
> Chapter two is a brief chapter done in 2nd person because that was the cliche prompt I used for that square. After a fair amount of indecision I've chosen let that chapter to stand as written.
> 
> It all started out with the prompt Magical Creatures....

  
  
  
  


 

|    
Betas: The gracious team of [](http://mischief5.livejournal.com/profile)[**mischief5**](http://mischief5.livejournal.com/) who rescued me from mad comma placement, and [](http://neevebrody.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://neevebrody.livejournal.com/)**neevebrody** who kept me on track, well, she tried. 

  


** Sensual Magic**

John Sheppard flicked a bored eye over the room. So many to choose from, and yet so many of the usual type that it wore on his nerves. It used to be flattering, how they were so eager for him, waiting with their own desperate hunger and watching his every move.

He could walk into a room, hips first, lean back against the doorway and just lazily wait for his meals to come to him. A cock of the eyebrow and little smirk, and at least half of them, men and women alike, would be partially disrobed before they were six feet away and a few would be crawling over on hands and knees. Others, no matter how resistant they believed themselves to be, would expose the line of their throats silently begging to be taken, the men already hard and the women wet.

No, John was never hungry unless by choice.

The term Vampire annoyed him as much as the sycophants. When had being a meal ticket become _ trendy_? John shuddered, thinking B-movies and Whedon had much to answer for, because dust? Just no. John preferred to think of himself as a Libertine. It connoted less of the cobwebby grave and stake. He certainly didn't drain the blood from anyone, not unless they were a threat. He'd keep the black clothing - minus the cape, though. He kind of liked that part.

There was a new human in the room. Well, now, this was interesting. This one had a mind full of images and words, moving too quickly for John to control. He'd never met one with this much resistance and John stepped forward in anticipation of a little fun.

The man held a hand up at John's approach. "Oh, no. Nope, no way. I am not one of your cattle. I've heard about the likes of you. Just stay away from me. Over there. Way over there. I'm looking for a colleague, because I lost the bet and he's around here somewhere suffering the effects of too much drink and, oh lucky me, I get the not-pleasure of making sure he gets safely into a cab without compromising any of his security clearance.

Didn't I tell you not to come any closer, you, you playboy person, with the sexiness and wiles. I'm Dr. Rodney McKay and I'll have you know I'm, I'm unwilable. Mostly. Mostly unwilable and ... are you even listening?"

Playboy person. John grinned. Rodney was a little off the mark. He could work with that. Besides he smelled incredible. John barely held himself back from licking at Rodney's throat. No, he wouldn't spook him and he certainly wouldn't let him get away. Like prey, John could find him anywhere now he had his scent. And Rodney was warm, so warm, his entire body a feast for libertine senses. It was becoming difficult for John to keep his hands to himself. He already knew Rodney's blood would be sensual, could fill and sate him like no other experience. Oh, he was _never_ letting this one go.

"Let me buy you a drink," coaxed John.

Rodney merely eyed him suspiciously.

"C'mon. Your friend is probably going to find his way back to the bar anyway and then you won't have to run around looking for him." John slid a hand under Rodney's elbow and led him towards the barroom. Rodney's response was gratifying. He may not have realized it yet but his body was answering John's call, blood singing for him and hips brushing against him as they made their way to the next room.

John definitely had something a little more private in mind for later but right now he was trying to figure out the puzzle Dr. McKay presented.

It was more than not being able to get into McKay's head. Being next to him made every nerve tingle. Hell, even his fangs were sensitized to a degree John had never experienced before. There'd been nothing like this in his two centuries of libertine existence.

  
John's first 50 years had been spent alternating between denial and desperately looking for more of his kind. The following decades he spent hunting down the demon who did this to him. John's mind shied away from thinking of that kill as glorious, but it was a kill John would never regret.

Years passed as he gathered all the lore he could find. Bits of writing and oral tradition he read and absorbed, frantically trying to find answers; in the ensuing decades, he realized it was all utter shit.

He wasn't particularly proud of himself for some of the things he'd done. But he wasn't too hard on himself either. After all, it was in his nature now; maybe parts of it always had been. He missed being warm and it felt like he'd been lonely for years but, if he was honest, that part wasn't so different from his preturned years.

Rodney's presence was a balm to all that, John thought as he watched him talking on the phone. What was it about him? Rodney's physical appeal was exactly John's type, broad shoulders and strong thighs. Thighs John had already imagined naked while he straddled them, working his cock against Rodney's belly while his fangs teased his neck. He imagined how it would sound hearing Rodney beg to be bitten and, suddenly, he got harder, faster than he thought possible. John stifled a moan. This was more than the hunter's instinct to trap and tame what was his. Whatever this was, Dr. Rodney McKay had the key. Hell, he was the key.

"Well, that's it then. No more babysitting," Rodney said as he put the cell away. He turned to John and asked, "How did you do that? I've never seen anything like that before. All those people throwing themselves at you like that."

"It just happens, it's not something…" John paused, and reached out, running a fingertip across Rodney's mouth. Watched the hot flush rise in Rodney's cheeks as John breathed in the response of a male almost ready to be taken. "It's not something I want anymore."

"Do you want to, um, I mean you did ask me for a drink and, okay, that's not usually the way my evenings go, but if you did want, I wouldn't be adverse to…oh, hell. What do you want?"

"You. I. Want. You. I have rooms here. Come with me, I only bite a little." John smiled, easy and welcoming, as he held his hand out, nearly thrumming with repressed energy as Rodney took it and let John lead the way upstairs.

~ * ~

"You brought me to your room to look at a book? Oh fine. I don't know why I expected anything different. Just because you look hot and slutty, and what do you mean you can't read? Are you serious, because I didn't think you were stupid. You're not even blond."

"I said I can't read _you_, Dr. McKay. That's not something I've had to deal with in 200 years."

"Pretty but stupid and crazy. How do I get myself into these things? All right fine, fine. Explain it to me. You can use little words if you have to."

John took a deep breath and refrained from pounding his head into the woodwork. If Rodney was as he suspected, well, he'd have centuries to get used to that acerbic tongue. Vamps would never try to change one of Rodney's ilk. Hell, wars had been fought for the privilege of having one like him by their side.

"There are old legends. You know some of them. I'm sure you've heard of vampires for example. There's one even older. To understand this you'll have to assume vampires are real and that they have legends even older than human ones."

John poured Rodney a glass of wine. "Sit down and relax. This is going to take some time to explain." He gently pushed Rodney toward the bed, easily leaning into him, close enough to be soothed by his heartbeat and the heat of his body.

"I'd really like for us both to get comfortable and believe me I'd skip this part if it weren't so important," he husked low into Rodney's ear, sliding one hand along his backside, stopping just above the rise of that incredible ass.

He couldn't help notice Rodney was pleasingly affected by John's familiarity. Preening might not be a very libertine thing to do, but who the fuck cared. He had Dr. Rodney McKay right where he wanted him.

"You don't mind if I call you Rodney? Good. That's good. Vamps exist, Rodney. You can trust me on this. They're shit for keeping records but one legend has been kept throughout the generations. Humans can't know because they'd kill the creature immediately and vamps will kill any human they think has discovered one. It's the legend of The Potential. It's a magical creature, highly prized by vampires. Exceedingly rare. Legend has it only one is born every century.

"The blood of the Potential is powerful," John continued. "A small taste each day is all a vampire needs to be able to walk in the sunlight. It's believed that their blood is so potent that no other feeding is necessary. In turn, when a Potential feeds often from its claimant, its own life is lengthened, nearly ageless, and it's immune to being turned."

Something in the story made Rodney shiver, his eyes widened in panic, and belief was written all across he face. He griped John by the shirt front. "Wait, wait, if vampires are real and they'll kill any human who knows, how are you still alive and why in hell are you putting my life at risk?"

John put his arms around him. He'd been aching to do that for hours and any resolve to go slow was lost to the night. John stroked him gently, quieting the tremors until Rodney responded to his caresses with a completely different kind of shiver. John kissed him, kissed him over and over, every place he could reach and, oh thank god, Rodney welcomed it. More than welcomed it as his clever, clever mate found all the buttons and zippers that separated them until there was no place left where John couldn't ravish bare skin. John sighed in giddy relief. Who knew vampires could be giddy? It was Rodney who did this to him and a definite reward was in order.

John moved over Rodney until he could lick at the wet head of his sturdy cock. He carefully took it into his mouth. Semen wasn't blood, but it barely needed to be, since this, from John's chosen one, was as powerful in its essence as normal human blood. When Rodney finally arched up into his mouth sweetly, desperately giving it all to John, John knew.

As they lay curled together, Rodney tugged at John's ear, demanding more information. John looked at him, idly sucking his own come off his fingers where he'd gotten them messy from swirling patterns over Rodney's nipples.

"Potentials are rare and valuable. It takes a vampire to truly recognize one, since they most often walk the earth in human form. Some times the magic is so deep they don't even know themselves what they are. They're cherished and fought for by those that aren't human, Rodney, because Potentials can give vampires the only chance they'll ever have of living a 'human' life again.

"I told you because I think that you're one. In fact I'm sure of it." John smiled a wicked smile and added, "Remember when I said I only bite a little?"  
  
---|---


	2. Bitten

You sit at the table writing furiously as though the things that have happened to you can't be put into coherent words fast enough. You're afraid you'll forget. You're afraid you won't, and pause from writing just long enough to press trembling fingers to your throat. Touching the marks helps you to believe.

He told you an incredible story and, deep in your gut, the truth of it hits home. Your eyes are drawn to the bed where he's laying, still as death, and you think: _vampire_. This sensual creature wanted you and the memory of the night makes you blush. Too old for that, you think, never wanted another male until… but you're too honest and admit that's a lie before you finish the thought.

Your fingertips stroke over the tiny wounds and suddenly you're reliving the moment. He was so careful with you, treating you with a gentle reverence that took your breath away. His hands cradled you and made you feel safer than you've felt since you were a child. It was so easy to put your trust in him and, as you arched your neck for him, you could barely keep from begging for his bite. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his head down until his mouth touched against your skin.

Your cock stiffens, and you feel the heat rise higher in your cheeks, but you don't care. You want to remember all of it.

He called you a _challenge_. He called you brave, even as you lay trembling in his arms. When his teeth pierced your skin it was sweet, and a fullness surged through you unlike anything you could have ever imagined. He drank from you, scant mouthfuls, then smiled down at you like you had given him the world. "Warm," he said. And he kept repeating the word as if it held some secret meaning.

You're fully aroused now but you're determined to finish writing this down; you shift in your seat and write faster while you can still think.

He told you about an ancient legend. The Potential; you can barely scrawl the words out because it terrifies you. Because a part of you knows it's true. It explains so much: why you were brighter than all the minds around you, always so impatient at the sluggish, narrow minds that couldn't see deep enough, stretch far enough or be quick enough to keep up. How it was so frustrating to see the universe laid out in elegant design and not be able to make anyone understand. You push the fear aside as best you can and try to find consolation in your belief that all knowledge is purposeful, even damned uncomfortable knowledge.

The pencil snaps and the words glare up at you like some insane fantasy. You can't parse out where you're going to go from here. You have a life, you have work to do, but the idea of leaving him is unbearable.

He stirs, beckons to you, and you go to his side without hesitation.


	3. Deprived

John kicked the sheets off the bed. Damn it, he shouldn't be waking up alone. He knew better than anyone that Rodney had to be thoroughly claimed. Somehow John had to convince him for his own protection. Rodney still needed to ... well suffice to say, so far he'd failed in convincing him, resulting in one reckless Potential and one morose, unhappy vampire.

Rodney insisted that work needed him, that he was vital to a project that John couldn't give a damn about. His mind was still too slippery for John to affect and his _wiles_, as Rodney called it, well that had failed him too. Although, John had to admit, it was gratifying to recall the look on Rodney's face when he had stretched full out naked on the bed. It took Rodney four tries to button his shirt right and he never did find his socks. Stupid, stubborn Potential.

John sighed. The hours were going to drag until Rodney got back. Partly his own fault as he hadn't quite been ready to put the old legends to the test and walk out into the daylight with him. He'd just found Rodney damn it, and the risk of losing it all turned him into a coward for the first time in his libertine existence. This was not what was supposed to happen. The irony didn't bypass John that he wasn't exactly the poster child for white picket fences and rainbows, and a dry smirk played across his mouth. He didn't fucking need rainbows, he had Rodney.

Who wasn't here when he should've been and if that was the way it was going to be, then John would just have to spend a little of his alone time thinking about him. He could still feel it; Rodney's blood was rich and heavy in him, and his cock stirred in anticipation. John palmed his cock in a loose grip, fingertips just teasing, and let the memory flood back. He didn't want this to be over too soon, but thinking about Rodney's first-time blooding, the way he'd wantonly offered his neck up to him, so eager, sent shivers down his spine. He looked down at his own hand, idly watching the way his cockhead pushed up and back through his fist while his mind drifted on thoughts of the taste and scent of Rodney's tender throat. John had never been so sated.

He wanted Rodney's hands back on him, wanted to have Rodney's nails gently raking over his skin again, teasing with delicious not-quite pain. John took himself more firmly in hand with long, hard strokes from root to wet tip, cock hardening even more as he remembered creamy soft skin giving way to him as he'd carefully sank in deep and drank. Remembered how Rodney had pulled him closer still, welcoming it, _wanting_ it as Rodney's soft, "Please, John," caused his own blood to surge.  
He ran his tongue over still sensitive fangs and shuddered in pleasure. This might not take long at all.

Suddenly panic washed over him. His stomach cramped hard and he could barely get to his feet. Rodney was in trouble. Bad trouble. Cold fear ran through him and John reached out over their fragile bond desperately needing to find him. Vamps had taken Rodney, he was sure of it. John needed to focus he had to move and he had to fight.

He'd been a stupid idiot, gotten clumsy when he should have known spending that much time with one human would attract the curiosity and attention of the undead. It wouldn't take long for them to figure out what Rodney really was. Only, how in hell had the bastards gotten to Rodney in the daytime? Underground. Oh Fuck. Rodney worked under a goddamn mountain.

Nightfall was twenty minutes away. Enough time for John to get to his personal armory and gear himself with grenades and C-4, and to hone his sword blade to a razor edge. Heads would roll. Literally. Sorry Whedon, thought John wooden stakes were so yesterday and maximum damage was due to anyone who dared take what was _his_. On second thought, John slipped a stake in his coat pocket. He grimaced in disgust; sometimes appearances were important and just his luck he'd run into one of Whedon's undead true believers.

There was nothing John could do now but search and wait. He let every sense fall away but one. Numbness crept over his limbs, his vision blurred and sounds fell away to pale echoes. He let the last rich taste of Rodney's blood go, accepting the bitter emptiness it left behind as just desserts for being so foolish to risk someone so precious. Then he narrowed in on Rodney's scent, the ability enhanced five-fold by willingly letting go of all his other senses. As the centuries had proven, John was very, _very_ good at tracking.

~~*~~

They looked like the Trust, walked like the Trust, and lies certainly fell out of their mouth like the Trust. It wasn't until one of them showed his fangs that Rodney realized how very screwed he was. If he got out of this alive, he was phoning in his resignation and telling Carter to shove her pleas for help (from his admittedly brilliant mind) out the nearest airlock.

God, he wished he'd stayed with John. There'd been a bone-deep itch under his skin since he'd left, a constant reminder that he didn't belong here anymore. What a fuck up. He knew this was his own goddamn fault. What John had asked from him had terrified Rodney. He wasn't here to help Carter he was here because he'd run away from John. Well, okay, if he were honest not John so much what John was expecting from him. Rodney was surprisingly okay with John being a uh, libertine. And the sex. He was really, really okay with the sex.

~~*~~

Oh please. An underground crypt? They'd walked through what felt like miles of tunnel for this? Didn't they have any imagination? It was more than mildly disgusting and Rodney hoped John would blow it all to hell when he got here. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that John would find him. He just had to keep it together and not panic. For all it looked like doom, horrendously fatal and painful doom, Rodney could feel the itching under his skin ease. Rodney fingered the lingering bite marks on his throat. Yes, John was definitely getting closer.

~~*~~

John slipped soundlessly into the crypt, a weapon himself, more lethal than the sword he held at the ready. Ahead of him was his Potential and no one else would ever touch him again.

Rodney yelled to him, "John! John, oh thank god. Get me out of here. These idiots smell and I'm afraid if I'm here much longer the collective stupidity will start affecting my naturally good disposition. A crypt. Christ. And do you know I haven't had any coffee in hours? How is that even remotely humane?

You are planning to kick vampire butt aren't you? I've been stuck in this infernal hell hole with pandering grave-heads for hours. If I'd wanted unwashed lackeys, I could have had that at Area 51. I hope to hell you're planning to blow this place to smithereens. You'd be doing it a favor. What's wrong with you? Are you blind? Oh my god, you're blind!"

John laughed and made his way over to Rodney. With cold glee he separated the heads from any of the undead that were too slow getting out of his way. Some of them actually seemed relieved as they ran off, as if now that they had a Potential in their midst, they had no idea what to do with him.

"I'm okay Rodney. Really. The blindness is temporary. To track you I had to let my other senses go so that I could focus on your scent. I can still detect everything I need to" and with those words John pressed his face into Rodney's neck. "Are you okay?" he asked, mumbling the question against Rodney's skin.

"Yes, I'm fine," Rodney replied. "They didn't hurt me but two of them tried to climb into my lap. Possibly there was some manly screaming until they backed off. What the hell was up with that?"

John grinned. "I've told you. You're a Potential. Rare and so damn precious any vampire would end themselves before they'd hurt you."

Rodney's eyes widened. "So I wasn't in any real danger? What if they'd tried to bite me?"

"They can't. Well, they could try, but unless your heart was completely willing, your blood chemistry would act like a toxic poison to them."

"Wait, wait, just a minute. You knew this, and you bit me anyway? You suicidal idiot! What if I'd killed you?"

John nuzzled Rodney's ear with a smug little smile and said, "Guess it's a good thing they didn't know they could win you over with coffee and chocolate."

"Oh, you are so very extra dead for that."


	4. Vanity

John preened. Finally Rodney had bitten him and he hoped it scarred. He wasn't above showing off to his kind that _his_ Potential had claimed him above all others.

He'd leave out the part where Rodney had been terrified by the idea. And the part where he'd been so reluctant to drink John's blood that he'd run back to his old life and gotten himself kidnapped. It had taken hours to get Rodney calmed down after John rescued him. He made a mental note; with Rodney, pie and three cups of coffee cured a lot.

No, Rodney just had no idea of his own needs as a Potential. That was John's job now, to make sure Rodney understood what he was, and to protect him, and he wouldn't fail in that again.

John's existence had depended on feeding from humans for so long he couldn't remember not wanting the taste of blood. Rodney's reaction had confused him and he'd had to keep reminding himself he wasn't being rejected. At least the kidnapping had helped convince his wayward Potential, so that their recent argument had worked in his favor.

John remembered exactly how that had gone.

~~*~~

"You have to drink from me Rodney; it's the only way to keep you safe. Do you want to remain an open target for every vamp on the street? They know what you are now, and they'll never leave you alone until you're thoroughly claimed. But if you feed from me they'll sense my blood in you and know you're under my protection. They'll have no reason to come after you once you've made your intentions clear."

"But you bit me! Isn't that enough? I thought that was claiming! Oh my god, you want me to turn into one of you. No, no, no, my bloodthirsty friend. No offense intended but I can't be one of those, those undead, neck sucking things, it's disgusting. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, now that you're, you know _not blind_, I don't exactly have the right teeth for that."

John just added more coffee to Rodney's cup and continued. "You're still thinking like a human. This time I'll be_your_ chosen one, the only one that can feed from you without dying in agony. And I've told you I can't turn you, your magic won't let me." John smirked a little at Rodney and added, "wouldn't want to anyway, I like you just the way you are, nice and warm. But," and John turned serious again, "you need to trust me, trust what you are and just let it happen."

"Are you going to be naked?" Rodney asked. "Because that would really help me relax if you were naked, with the nerves I mean, and the biting thing and - Oh my god." Rodney's eyes were riveted to John as John began to shrug out of all his clothes. "We're going to do this thing right now aren't we?"

"Oh yeah," John said as he stood in front of Rodney. "This working for you?"

"Oh god yes." Rodney drew in a breath and tried not to whimper as an all-naked John Sheppard straddled his lap.

John blissed out over the feeling of strong, solid Rodney under him as one of Rodney's hands cupped his ass, holding him secure. His other hand tangled in John's hair and drew his head down. John shivered as Rodney's hot breath teased at his neck.

"Are you sure John?" Rodney murmured, his mouth against John's throat. "Christ, you are so fucking hot like this. It makes me _want_ to bite you."

"Do it _please._ Don't, don't make me wait for it any longer." John said, nearly whining and trying to grind his cock up against Rodney's skin right through the fabric of his pants.

Finally, finally delicate fangs grazed his neck. Rodney's fangs. Created by magic and desire. John closed his eyes, wanting to hold on tight to the sensation of Rodney piercing his skin. He hadn't known it could be like this, his only other experience had been a cold passion that had turned cruel and bitter. But this… Rodney's bite gave instead of taking, and his hands held John steady and sure. Then his smart, clever Potential firmly gripped his cock and gave him a wonderful place to thrust into. And John did, over and over, matching the rhythm of Rodney's gentle sucking at his throat until Rodney lifted his head and John shuddered and came all over Rodney's shirt.

~~*~~

The memory made him smile, except for the part where Rodney had made him admit to the purring. That hadn't quite fit his Libertine image. Oh well, he shrugged, he'd purr all the fucking time if it got Rodney to bite him again.

John watched Rodney as he puttered around the kitchen then turned to admire himself in the mirror again. It was a fallacy that vampires had no reflection. They had plenty, it was just their ability for misdirection was so ingrained they had to concentrate to get their reflection to show and, as a rule, were too damn lazy to bother. John wasn't feeling the least bit lazy as he made sure his collar was strategically turned and undid two more shirt buttons.

Yes indeed, Rodney's bite mark looked damned excellent on him.


	5. Just after Twilight

John rubbed his full, naked, little belly and stretched out in contented satisfaction. Rodney was warm, delicious, and snoozing right next to him. Hmmm, overslept again, the stars were already out. John didn't particularly care, not when there was a stellar ass within hands reach. And reach he did, cupping a warm palm-full with one hand and running his thumb down the shadowed crease between Rodney's cheeks with the other.

Rodney's responses always fascinated him; the lightest touch and his Potential, even still asleep, spread his legs for him. How could any libertine worth his salt not take a taste of that? Not John, that's for hell sure. Still too sated to feed, he could enjoy the taste of his Potential in other ways. John bent down and used his tongue, wantonly, lovingly, until Rodney woke up with a groan.

"Oh my god. Should you be doing that? Ohgod yes, you should definitely be doing that."

It made John's fangs ache, the way Rodney couldn't help rising up on his knees, thighs spread, ass offered, giving John easy access to everything he wanted to taste. John wisely spent several minutes taking advantage of the opportunity. He always did enjoy exploring some of the deeper mysteries of his Potential.

"Rodney," John said, with a low growl, "I want you to bite me again."

"Oh Christ, you, you can't just say that to me," Rodney mumbled into his pillow.

"Aw. Why not? I know you liked it," was John's smug reply. Then he gently turned Rodney over. A very impressive hard-on met his gaze.

"You have a biting fetish, you realize that, right?"

"I'm a vampire, Rodney. That's perfectly acceptable behavior." John arched a brow. You're not complaining about my sucking technique are you? Because you seemed really happy with it last night. Besides, this is not convincing me that you think it's a bad idea." John gave a slow, wet lick up the underside of Rodney's cock to emphasize his point. "Any other complaints?"

"Um, no?" Rodney was sprawled out beneath John, all warm, flushed skin and a bemused, sweet smile, as he ran warm fingers over the bite mark on John's neck. "So what you're saying is my fangs really _ do_ it for you?"

John leaned into the touch. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Let me clarify for arguments sake," Rodney continued. "Even though my fangs are, and I quote, 'the most delicate ones I've ever seen,' they are still perfectly adequate for you?"

John groaned. How was it both so amazing and frustrating to have a Potential in his bed?

Rodney wrapped his arms and legs around John and turned them so that Rodney was on top, holding John down with his weight pinning John's arms above his head - - not that John was resisting whatsoever.

"Yeah, yeah, adequate works," John gasped, as Rodney's hips settled into the good place where their cocks rubbed together perfectly. Rodney lightly ran his tongue over his bite mark on John's throat. At the first touch of Rodney's fangs in the same exact spot, John fell helplessly into white hot heat, arching up into Rodney's solid body and coming so hard he saw stars. Hell, he saw fucking constellations. Dazed, he looked up at Rodney. Rodney must have come too, but John's brain was still too fuzzy to recall. But he must have, because Rodney was smugly licking the results off John's belly.

John's head thumped back on the bed. Oh yeah, _adequate_ was a damn fine word.


	6. All of a Kind

John wasn't happy about coming here but Rodney needed to find out as much about himself as he could. He was still terribly vulnerable in John's eyes and the sooner Rodney came to accept his true self, the better for everybody. He couldn't seem to do that on faith alone and John had run out of answers to Rodney's questions. Word was out that Dr. Rodney McKay was a Potential and it was bringing unwanted attention. John knew it was only a matter of time before they drew the Colonel's interest. Damn it. He couldn't ignore the invitation and what it might mean to both of them. They needed more information, which is how they ended up on Steven Caldwell's doorstep.

Caldwell affected a regimental bearing from his pre-turned years, when it suited him to do so. The vampire wasn't that much older than John but he had embraced his turning vigorously, giving him power and respect from the undead. All of which was exactly the kind of thing John despised. To say they were a thorn in each other's side was putting it mildly.

Just being here, needing to rely on Caldwell's generosity put John's back up. They needed access to his resources and the smarmy bastard knew it. John gritted his teeth as Caldwell greeted them at the door.

"Well, John, you surprise me. I didn't expect you to accept my invitation. You must be desperate if you're willing accept my hospitality. But where are my manners? By all means, do come in, gentlemen."

"Don't bother shaking his hand," John warned Rodney. "I don't want you that close. Oh, and he likes to be called The Colonel."

Steven Caldwell stared John in the eye. "That's just Sheppard's way of being funny. Like that ridiculous term _Libertine._"

John smirked back at Caldwell. "Don't pay any attention, Rodney, he just doesn't like it when I stick it to the vamp."

"Do you boys think we could get to the purpose of this visit now? The library is this way." Caldwell led them through several rooms, minions skittering out of the way as they approached. He gave his guests an appraising look, and continued, "You know, John, by rights, I should be mad at you for taking out Mara. She was just following her nature. How long did it take you to track her down? She came to me asking for my protection, you know. I couldn't give it of course. I don't care to meddle in the affairs of my children for problems of their own devising."

In a voice colder than Rodney had ever heard from him, John replied, "Well, excuse me for objecting to that turn of events. The conniving bitch destroyed my life. I wasn't about to play nice or let her do it to anyone else."

For the first time, Rodney could see John as Death in the night. Oh, he'd seen some of it when John rescued him, but not like this. Rodney wondered briefly if he should find it as hot as he did. He let it go when he realized that, by the look on Caldwell's face, he was finding it damn hot too. Rodney decided, no matter what they found here, he was going to keep a much closer eye on the old colonel.

Caldwell conceded a minor nod to John's declaration then returned to the subject of his library. "I have the largest collection of Vampire lore to be found in one place. At that, it's a pitifully small amount considering the years of history it represents. This is one thing John and I agree on, Dr. McKay, vampires have no sense of record keeping. Why doesn't anyone ever turn one of those bookish academics? But no, it's always about the pretty."

Caldwell pointedly looked at John with a less than subtle once over. Rodney bristled and immediately stepped closer to John, not at all happy with the implication.

Ignoring Caldwell, John laid a calming hand on Rodney's arm and reminded him, "If you're looking for information about Potentials, Rodney, this is still the best place to start."

"We don't know much about the extent of their abilities," said Caldwell. "They can be a vampire's worst nightmare." He stepped into Rodney's space, softening his voice, "Or their greatest asset."

This time it was John who bristled. His hands clenched into fists. Damn Caldwell, the words were practically a come-on to _his_ mate and he had no business approaching Rodney like that no matter how much he wanted a Potential of his own. The man was playing them and John couldn't do a damn thing about it. They _needed _that information.

"I understand you have some background in research, Dr. McKay. I've gathered these records from all over the world. If you're looking for information about your abilities and clues to the location of others of your kind, this the best place to start."

Caldwell waited until Rodney was occupied rooting books off the shelves then he lowered his voice and asked John, "Do you think he can do it? We only have records of two other Potentials coming into being. No one's been able to find traces of either of them in 50 years. There must be others. If he can find them …"

"You want to use him. That's why you invited us here, to do your hunting for you."

"Don't get excited, John. I want to keep him just as safe as you do. And yes, use him and the other Potentials too if we have to, but I hope it never comes to that. They're powerful, more than your friend can imagine, and we're going to need that power. You know some of us have infiltrated the Colorado base. All I can tell you right now is that there are things out there that are scarier than we are and they won't show any mercy for our kind. I'm afraid we're going to be part of a war whether we like it or not."

"I will never allow you to put Rodney in danger."

"Damn it, John, how could you think that? I'd never put a Potential in danger." The old vamp looked over at Rodney, "Believe it or not, Libertine, it's a privilege just to be in the same room with one. I just wish I'd had a shot at him first."

 

~~~*~~~

Rodney sat at the table amongst fragile manuscripts, old books, and the  
occasional piece of vellum. He adjusted the light three times before snapping, "This is barely readable. What's this written in, blood? Oh my god, it is! It is blood!"

John looked sheepish and Caldwell just arched a brow. "What did you expect, doctor? My kind finds blood useful for so many things."

"Handiwipes. Handiwipes right now!" demanded a shaken McKay.

"Well, John, he's a handful I see," Caldwell sneered. "Must make blooding him an  
interesting event."

"You know, this would go better if you got us some decent coffee," snapped John. "And what we do is none of your business. You'd realize that if you had, oh say, a Potential of your own."

When Rodney chimed in, "Donuts wouldn't hurt either," John could have hugged him on the spot.

~~~*~~~

Four hours later, as he finished off the last donut, Rodney was ready to admit defeat. "There's no new information here. Half of these are second hand accounts, barely useful as gossip, certainly no hard data, and the primary sources are written in code or a language I've never even heard of. The one clear account is missing half its pages. The only things vaguely familiar are these symbols," said Rodney as he pointed out a few odd lines of text to John. "Mostly it comes down to what you've already told me.

"Magical creature. Check. Long life. Check. Vampire savior of sorts. Check. No mention of the hot, insatiable sex. You'd think that would deserve a mention? And what's this about being pure? Because I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty unpure right now." Rodney hooked a finger in John's belt loop and pulled him down for a kiss. "It's been hours since I felt you," and he pushed his nose into John's hair, breathing him in. "God, can I suck you? I really, really want to suck you."

"Sure, Rodney, but what about Caldwell?"

"He can't have you. He can never have you; you're mine," was Rodney's hot, furious reply.

John stared in awe at the glow suddenly surrounding Rodney. "I, I only meant what if he walks in?"

"He won't see us."

"You seem pretty sure of that."

"I can't explain it John, I just, I want you and nothing can interfere with that. I won't let it."

"So, you're saying, we can have sex on Caldwell's dining room table if we want and he'll never even know it? Cool."

"Oh, shut up. Smug is an intolerable look on you."

John grinned. How could he not? Rodney already had his zipper down, one warm hand pulling John's cock as Rodney licked his lips, eager to take him in.

Oh hell, John was about to have hot, glowy sex. Damn, he just hoped the table was sturdy enough.

~~~*~~~

"You're leaving now? There's nothing more in the records? Damn, I was certain you'd find something. Perhaps you'll find a reason to come back and research them again," Caldwell suggested. Then he clapped a hand on Rodney's shoulder, "Well, at least it's good to see John mated now. Pity you settled for him when more traditional vampires would be glad to take you. Naturally, you're welcome here even if John can't come. Spend the night if you like. I can assure John you'll be perfectly safe."

As soon as they were far enough away from the house to be out of earshot, Rodney turned to John. "Okay, that was just creepy. Is he trying to give us his blessing? What is he, like my in-law now?"

"I suppose to his mind, you are. Caldwell's old school, he likes to think anything with fangs is family. He was serious about offering his protection. If something should ever happen to me, and you're in trouble, he'd help. Can't promise it won't come with some strings attached."

Rodney's expression turned mulish. "Oh no, I don't think so, my undead friend." He poked John in the chest, "Nothing is going to happen to you ever."

And there it was again, the little glow that surrounded Rodney like a halo.

"C'mon," said John, grinning spreading over his face, "I can't wait to get home."


	7. All of a Kind

John rubbed his full, naked, little belly and stretched out in contented satisfaction. Rodney was warm, delicious, and snoozing right next to him. Hmmm, overslept again, the stars were already out. John didn't particularly care, not when there was a stellar ass within hands reach. And reach he did, cupping a warm palm-full with one hand and running his thumb down the shadowed crease between Rodney's cheeks with the other.

Rodney's responses always fascinated him; the lightest touch and his Potential, even still asleep, spread his legs for him. How could any libertine worth his salt not take a taste of that? Not John, that's for hell sure. Still too sated to feed, he could enjoy the taste of his Potential in other ways. John bent down and used his tongue, wantonly, lovingly, until Rodney woke up with a groan.

"Oh my god. Should you be doing that? Ohgod yes, you should definitely be doing that."

It made John's fangs ache, the way Rodney couldn't help rising up on his knees, thighs spread, ass offered, giving John easy access to everything he wanted to taste. John wisely spent several minutes taking advantage of the opportunity. He always did enjoy exploring some of the deeper mysteries of his Potential.

"Rodney," John said, with a low growl, "I want you to bite me again."

"Oh Christ, you, you can't just say that to me," Rodney mumbled into his pillow.

"Aw. Why not? I know you liked it," was John's smug reply. Then he gently turned Rodney over. A very impressive hard-on met his gaze.

"You have a biting fetish, you realize that, right?"

"I'm a vampire, Rodney. That's perfectly acceptable behavior." John arched a brow. You're not complaining about my sucking technique are you? Because you seemed really happy with it last night. Besides, this is not convincing me that you think it's a bad idea." John gave a slow, wet lick up the underside of Rodney's cock to emphasize his point. "Any other complaints?"

"Um, no?" Rodney was sprawled out beneath John, all warm, flushed skin and a bemused, sweet smile, as he ran warm fingers over the bite mark on John's neck. "So what you're saying is my fangs really _ do_ it for you?"

John leaned into the touch. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Let me clarify for arguments sake," Rodney continued. "Even though my fangs are, and I quote, 'the most delicate ones I've ever seen,' they are still perfectly adequate for you?"

John groaned. How was it both so amazing and frustrating to have a Potential in his bed?

Rodney wrapped his arms and legs around John and turned them so that Rodney was on top, holding John down with his weight pinning John's arms above his head - - not that John was resisting whatsoever.

"Yeah, yeah, adequate works," John gasped, as Rodney's hips settled into the good place where their cocks rubbed together perfectly. Rodney lightly ran his tongue over his bite mark on John's throat. At the first touch of Rodney's fangs in the same exact spot, John fell helplessly into white hot heat, arching up into Rodney's solid body and coming so hard he saw stars. Hell, he saw fucking constellations. Dazed, he looked up at Rodney. Rodney must have come too, but John's brain was still too fuzzy to recall. But he must have, because Rodney was smugly licking the results off John's belly.

John's head thumped back on the bed. Oh yeah, _adequate_ was a damn fine word.


	8. One of a Kind

Steven Caldwell watched John and Rodney walk away into the night. They'd been hiding something from him. He was sure of it. Had they conjured up a ghost? Something had certainly happened to cause quiet disarray throughout half his house. Well, he'd figure it out. It was only a matter of time before they came back. The Potential was too curious about his library. He could always tempt him later, if need be, drop hints that he hadn't shown them everything.

Steven went to his bedroom, and paused before opening the dresser drawer, already knowing its contents like the back of his hand. Maybe he should have told them about her. Calling himself a sentimental fool, he opened the drawer and pulled out a small, silk wrapped bundle. Sitting down, to catch his non-existence breath, he reverently pulled the silk away to reveal a tiny frame. A picture of the most unforgettable woman Steven had ever seen stared back.

Steven had come across the picture in an old antique shop. He'd been drawn to it, hunting it down before he had any idea he _was_ hunting. The old man that ran the antique shop had only seen value in the delicate silver frame, completely disregarding the portrait it held. But Steven had recognized her the moment he laid eyes on the picture. She hadn't changed since he'd seen her the first time. Remarkable, considering cameras hadn't been invented for another 150 years.

He'd been Stephen then. Blood lust had taken him over at his turning and, for fifty years, he'd had no problem with it. He relished the power and control. There was good reason Sheppard called him The Colonel, from the way he'd made his reputation on the carnage of the human race.

Stephen found it easy to acquire the regimental dressings of whichever local war was waging at the time. He'd chosen a colonel when he could, following him into his tent where he'd help himself to a warm drink. One efficient snap of the neck, a quick change of clothes and he was free to swagger his way onto the battlefield. No one ever questioned his presence, at least not for very long.

He must have been a terrible sight for her eyes. It was one of the few things Stephen deeply regretted and he winced at the memory. He'd been feeding on his third or fourth of the night. It's was ironic how the wounded would beg for his help until they saw his fangs in the moonlight. By then it was too late for them, their final cries in the dark too weak to be heard.

Stephen's uniform was dirty and blood stained from his victims. His long hair was matted with gore and smears of blood streaked his chin from his feasting. His fangs were dripping with warm, sticky blood when he raised his head from the neck of his last victim.

She was standing there, gazing at him. She was as elegant as the crescent moon, completely serene in the chaos of war, and all Stephen's power was useless to him as he stared, mesmerized by her presence.

He would never forget her. She'd spoken his name, but that's all she'd said. She seemed to be waiting for something. Calm waiting in the midst of slaughter, in her long black dress, the high collar concealing her neck. She held a silver cane, the top of it a sleek hound's head, and she delicately curled one hand over its ruby eyes. Stephen wasn't sure if it the cane was an affectation or a weapon, but before he could find out anything more, she was gone.

Since then, she'd haunted his dreams, and left him yearning. Because of her, Steven left his old lifestyle of catacombs and wars far behind. He bought the Victorian mansion, redesigned the interior, opening the rooms, and decorating them with cream walls, military brass and black damask drapery. He hoped she'd like it.

Then he began to work on gathering as much history on Potentials as he could find. When he'd seen the name written in the old tales, he _knew_ it was her. Decades had passed and she still called to him.

_Elizabeth._


	9. Out of Time

_ Past_

 

John adjusted his cravat. He hated the damn thing. It always felt too tight, as if it was choking him, even if he didn't need air to breathe. It was worse today than usual but Rodney insisted they follow the conventions of the day and blend in as best they could. It was a relief to relax in privacy. Some days it gave John a headache trying to remember the local vernacular. He really didn't want another lecture from his mate.

Rodney was always concerned one or both of them would slip up and then they'd have to find another place to settle. John shuddered. Salem had been a disaster. A little mouth to mouth, one time, and next thing you know, Rodney's accused of witchcraft for saving a little girl's life. Damn it to hell! Maybe it was about time to remind Rodney the public should be fearful of _ John_.

He didn't care for the neck cloth on Rodney either. John had left a lovely ring of marks, very proudly so, and now they were completely hidden from view. John growled; he'd about had enough of this! Even worse, Rodney was ignoring his frustration, but then again, he was bent over the writing desk working. Bent. Over. Hmm, definitely time to convince his Potential to take a break. John quietly stalked up behind Rodney and circled his arms around him.

Rodney stood and pressed his back into John, laying his head on John's shoulder with a soft sigh. Someday, if Rodney remembered his future correctly, this would be Caldwell's library, but in this era, it was their bedchamber in the suite of rooms they'd rented.

"What has you so occupied? You've even let your tea get cold." John asked as he nuzzled behind Rodney's ear, softly purring, calmed and comforted by Rodney's warmth and heartbeat.

Rodney turned in his arms, his face distressed in a way John knew meant trouble.

"Something is messing with the time spiral, John. I can't fix it. Hell, I don't even know what's causing it. It might even be from some force outside this galaxy. I can't be sure how much more 'time' we have." He held up the journal he'd been writing in for hours and waved it in front of John's face. "This is the best I've been able to come up with. It's completely inadequate, but it's all I've got. I've fixed it to your time spiral. John, this is important. Wherever, _when_ ever you are, you'll find this book, or maybe it's better to say this book will find you. Over and over, if that's what it takes."

"Whoa. I don't like the sound of this; I think you'd better take the time to explain this to me a little better."

"Time is not linear. Our lives are not linear. It's horrifyingly wrong and yet this is what the modern age is going to believe. It will get better once quantum physics and global frequencies are discovered, but even then it will be about as accurate as shaking a table at a séance and calling it a visitation."

"A little more detail would be nice, if you don't mind."

"Okay, okay." Rodney took a deep breath. "As you already know, time isn't a line, or a river, or a circle. Time is a spiral. It's in discrete but connected parts. Think of it this way, your life 'line' is in layers and layers, like soap bubbles spiraling on top of each other. Each bubble contains moments of your life and where they touch, if the film in between is weak enough, you can cross over and travel through time. As you also know, you-- and other vampires -- are uniquely qualified for this type of traveling. Maybe it's because your senses are adept far beyond human capacity, or maybe it's because, by your very nature, you've lived two lives. Whatever the reason, you will always know where you are in time. If my theory is correct, you're like a fixed, steady point that can navigate the time bursts."

"So, you're finally admitting it. I'm a Time Pilot."

"Well, if you want to grossly understate the science then… yes, John. You're a time pilot."

"Hey, what about meeting yourself? You never said why that doesn't cause unimaginable chaos. Or well, you know, something else doomish."

"Doomish? Let's just go with no on that, shall we?" That was all the teasing John was able to get out of him before Rodney went into lecture mode again.

"Most people have an extremely limited ability to step into their own crossover points. However, it can happen and does: walking into a room and not remembering why. Knowing you made the right decision but not how. Then there's the one so common people gave it a name: déjà vu. Why isn't it insanely dangerous? Because the human brain is a marvelous thing with the innate ability to create a memory barrier. What you can't remember you can't influence. Nature's built-in ultimate self-protection.

"Something is causing the 'bubbles' in the spirals to oscillate out of temporal stability. Most people shouldn't be affected too badly. Their life spans are short compared to ours. They'll find themselves with increased experiences of déjà vu, misplacing things, or experiencing, to use a twentieth century idiom, 'road daze'. They should recover fairly quickly with no memory of it."

"What's it mean to _us_, Rodney? You're starting to worry me." He held onto Rodney a little tighter, beginning to fear what Rodney would say next.

 

"I, I can't stop it, John. God knows I would if I could. I can feel it coming and it's going to rip us apart. Because of what we are, our life spans cover centuries. Think about it. It's going to rip us away from each other and wipe our memories. You'll be fine. You'll always know where you are, even if you can't remember me. That's why this book is attached to _your_ time spiral. But I could end up anywhere. I'll be lost John, finding myself in some time and place with no memory of us and have no way back to you without your help. _You_ are my reference point."

The despair on his face was unbearable to John. "I won't forget you, Rodney. I won't!" He buried his face in Rodney's neck, wanting to refuse everything his Potential was telling him and knowing he couldn't.

"Unfortunately, you won't have a choice. The information in this book is the only chance we have of you finding me. If I'm very, very lucky, I'll stay in one place where I can make a life while I wait for you. If the worst happens, I'll keep drifting, unrooted in time. Find me, John, or I'll be lost to you forever."

"How long do we have?"

"Not long. I've been sensing a change in the time frequencies for days and it's gotten a lot worse in the last few hours. John? Will you do something for me?"

Rodney was wearing his brave face. That silly face that said, despite being scared shitless, he'd do anything he had to for John. "Yeah," John answered, voice soft and thick.

"Bite me… hard. I want to feel you for as long as I can."

John swallowed, throat tight, and then quickly got to the business of getting them both undressed and into bed. Rodney had teased him mercilessly for weeks about the pink silk sheets. They'd been difficult to acquire but so worth it. John loved to see Rodney spread out on them, the color exactly perfect against his warm, creamy skin. Rodney practically glowed against them.

Having Rodney underneath him was an irresistible temptation. John began to trace his chain of marks on Rodney's neck with his tongue, delighting in the little sounds Rodney made. When strong legs came up around him and pulled him down, the raw wanton need of it put an end to John's teasing.

"I need you to bite me right the fuck now." Rodney growled.

John answered the best way he knew how. He bit deep and hard. Deeper than he ever had before, the swirling musk of Rodney's need filling his senses until John was light-headed with it. He wasn't gentle as he pulled his Potential's blood into him, sucking with single-minded intent. His rhythm was equally matched and taken as Rodney arched into his body, grinding up with a hardness that rivaled his own.

Sated too soon, always sated too soon on the richness of Rodney's blood, John didn't even try to hold back. The moment he felt Rodney shudder under him, his essence spreading warm and wet against John's groin, John surged against him, coming hard and nearly howling with satisfaction.

He pushed aside all the worry for awhile and just concentrated on watching his sleeping mate between slow, lazy licks as he cleaned him off. Today they'd rest, curled around each other and tomorrow he'd question Rodney further. Maybe together they could find an answer. Time Pilot. John grinned; he been trying to get Rodney to admit that for years.

 

~~~*~~~

Cool night pierced his awareness and John woke with a start. Something was horribly wrong. Where was…there should be… He was alone. That was right, wasn't it? He looked down at the ridiculous pink sheets pooled around his hips. Nothing else seemed out of place except for the leather bound book at his bedside. He'd never seen it before. There wasn't much that frightened John, _he_ was the nightmare others ran from, but that book sent shivers up his spine.

A miserable cold settled into his gut and the dark night felt like bitter frost on his bones.

John bent his head in weary despair. This -- this was what it was like to wake up and know you'd lost your soul.

 

_And back to present again_

He stared into the mirror. The black, silk shirt clung to him, and John took a moment to just enjoy the feel of it against his skin. He slid his hand over his chest simply for the sensuous pleasure of rubbing his nipples through the fine material. He paused to unbutton the top two buttons. Much better. The slightest constriction around his neck made him feel apprehensive. Ridiculous, of course; even a neck as sensitive as John's couldn't claim to be a portent for disaster from a buttoned up shirt collar. John shook his head. He'd had to deal with that irrational anxiety for centuries; he should be used to by it now. Despite his best efforts, it didn't stop the wave of loss that shook him every damn time.

John ran his fingertips over the reflection of his bare neck. Well, at least one good thing came out of it all this: Mara's mark on him was completely gone. He'd hated every minute of the damn thing. He'd realized, too late to save his human life, that she was a rabid, little twit and John had been a fool for falling under her spell. She had looked like warm seduction and an easy escape from his human woes. Seduction wrapped in viciousness was more like it.

The irony didn't escape John that he was using seduction for his own purposes. Well, so be it, let the humans flock to him and beg for his bite. He could feed from several that way without draining any of them. At least they knew what they were getting into and John had never turned anyone. He despised that trait in his brethren. He'd go hungry first.

John ran the heel of his hand up the length of his cock, watching himself in the mirror as it hardened. He smirked in satisfaction as its clear outline showed through the thin, black denim. No, he wasn't likely to go hungry tonight.

There was a roomful of pretty people downstairs. Yes, they'd be willing. Ripe and ready, offering themselves to him for any way he wanted to take them. So very willing and so damn boring.

He turned away from the mirror. His reflection was a cold, dead thing, too close to the truth for comfort. He needed warmth so badly, and hoped, just maybe this time, he'd find it. He dug his fingers into his pants pocket and pulled out the small piece of pink silk. It was the last remnant of those ridiculous pink sheets he'd woken up on centuries ago. He'd found some comfort from the cold days in their caress, and sweeter dreams in slumber than he deserved. They'd finally fallen apart from age and use, but he'd kept this bit as a talisman, not quite understanding the connection but knowing he couldn't bear to throw it away.

He was more restless than usual tonight and, as John headed downstairs his senses immediately became aroused. That scent. It was tantalizing. He caught a quick glimpse of broad shoulders hustling toward the bar and he immediately resolved to feed quickly, and hunt this human even if the pursuit took all night.

Moving with purpose now, John flicked up his collar and walked into the club lounge hips first. He leaned back against the doorway and waited for his meals to come to him.


	10. Thirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney discover neither have the patience for kinks.   
> Written as a birthday gift for [Neevebrody](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody).

~*~

John leaned against Rodney, taking in the scent of his Potential. He ran his hands over Rodney’s arms and shoulders in a slow, sensual movement that ended with him pulling Rodney close so that his back nestled snug against John’s chest. That it caused Rodney’s head to fall back onto his shoulder, leaving the long line of his neck open territory for claiming, was just a bonus.

"Oh god, John, you’re evil," Rodney moaned, arching his neck. He was so expressively wanton that John wondered if his Potential had any idea what it did to him with that warm temptation bare inches from his mouth.

He purred a sultry agreement into Rodney's ear just as he shifted position and pushed his thigh, hard, up between Rodney’s spread legs. The movement made the plug in Rodney’s ass lodge itself deeper, and Rodney responded by grinding his ass against the solid muscle if his thigh. The heady scent of his Potential’s lust and desire filled John’s senses as nothing else ever had, or could.

The heat rose between them. John could smell Rodney’s heartbeat and hear his pulse as it fluttered under pale skin. The rhythm of sweet, hot blood laced with magic throbbed just beneath the surface, utterly compelling, and it made John’s fangs ache with need.

"Before you call me evil, you should remember you asked me to do this, Rodney."

John licked the edge of Rodney’s ear, holding himself back. He wouldn’t be able to stop if he licked at Rodney’s throat. It had been his Potential’s idea to drag this out, to tease them both for hours, riding the edge. It had sounded like a good idea at the time.

Rodney had suggested it two days ago. Curled together in their warm bed, both of them come-spent and sated, the idea of prolonging their intimacy had seeme doable, even exciting. But now, with a squirming, horny Rodney in his arms, John thought the idea – well, sucked.

"Do you still want to wait hours, Rodney?"

Rodney pushed back with a moan. "It feels like it’s been hours, it must’ve –" Rodney stopped to pull John’s mouth down to his neck. "I can’t. Not more hours, not one more minute. Please, John."

John licked his lips and pressed a chaste kiss against Rodney’s throat. "Maybe we shouldn’t have done this naked, mon assoiffé. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes."

"That’s long enough. Trust me, fifteen minutes can feel like….oh, oh, that, yes. Do that again. Nnghh.

He let his fangs scrape over Rodney’s throat as he pulled the plug out and moved his fingers in, and then deeper still, just to hear Rodney gasp.

"Ah, but I can’t fuck you with the plug in." With a low, dirty chuckle, John added, "You didn’t think I’d let you come with something artificial in you, did you? I’m going to be in you, Rodney. My cock, my fangs, my come, and you’re never going to forget who you belong to."

Finished teasing, John lifted his Potential up with ease and pulled him down onto his hard cock. Rodney molded himself to him, clinging, and babbling soft nonsense into his ear, seemingly content to let John do all the work. That was just fine with him. This wasn’t going to take hours. It wasn’t even going to take fifteen minutes because John was done with waiting.

He sunk his teeth in, carefully. Despite Rodney’s urgent rocking, and his soft pleas for John to bite now, please, please now, his Potential’s blood was something to be savored and never taken for granted. John suckled with gentleness.

No human would ever understand how this felt. This – to pierce into one’s beloved, to feel their essence surge and meld within, giving all, being all, enhanced, lifted, accepted. John’s body sang with it.

John moaned as he pushed into Rodney’s body. Flying apart and shaking with bloodlust, he let Rodney carry them both as he fed and fucked. Let his Potential carry him, as Rodney’s body murmured its own song of passion back to him. Full. Steady. Complete.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [mashimero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashimero/pseuds/mashimero) Log in to view. 
  * A [Restricted Work] by [mashimero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashimero/pseuds/mashimero) Log in to view. 




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